The woman lazily looked at her, and Lyonene met her smirking eyes with a smoldering gaze that she did not try to conceal.
“Ah,” she drawled. “So my Ranulf has found one to replace me. I have not heard of you; he hides you well. But then as his mistress you must know of his particular skills, and you have me to thank.”
Lyonene frowned and was about to ask her meaning when they both became aware of the movement of the horses. She turned startled eyes up to see Ranulf towerin
g above her as he sat atop the Frisian, but Ranulf’s eyes were not for her but for the woman standing next to her. Lyonene covered her face with the shadow of the hood before he saw her.
“Maude, it is good to see you this lovely morn. I am glad that you travel with us again.”
“Only with you, my lord. I travel only with you, and should there be anything you need I will gladly … provide it.”
Lyonene stole a glance at Ranulf, and her teeth clenched tighter at the soft, adoring expression he wore as he gazed down at this brazen old woman. He did not care that everyone in the courtyard heard their words and knew well their meaning. She looked away before he should turn and see her, as if he would ever notice her while this fat, slant-eyed woman so obviously offered herself to him.
“Ah, Maude, I miss you much since you went to the village. Have you … entertainments planned for this lonely journey?”
“I have boxes of colored silks and whatever else will be needed.” Her honey voice was a caress, and Lyonene knew she was going to give herself away if this did not end soon.
“I will look forward then to the evenings.” He did not even glance at Lyonene’s concealed face before he turned and left them, with the Black Guard following.
Maude, beside her, made a noise and Lyonene looked up to see her mocking eyes. “You are possessed of a strong will.” She smiled at Lyonene’s still blazing eyes. “Were I in your place I would not have been able to control my anger so well.”
Lyonene’s chin came up. “I know not of what you speak—this anger.”
The low throaty laugh came again. “You need not fret that I will take your place with my lord, for my days are over and I must live only with memory of his sweet ways.”
She tossed her head. “I know of no sweet ways.”
The laugh came again, only longer, deeper. “So that is the way of it. You do not know his touch yet, you only wish to.” She glanced toward the window of the Black Hall and her mouth hardened, her voice flinty. “She shuns him, so I hear—may the Devil rot her—so mayhaps Maude can give you your desire.”
“You speak lightly of the Devil rotting a woman you do not know. Mayhaps Lord Ranulf shuns her and it is not as you think.”
Maude was staring at her intently. “Then she must be very ugly or ill-tempered so that he cannot bear to touch her. Mayhaps she has the pox.”
“She does not!” Lyonene said hotly and then stopped at Maude’s piercing stare and looked away.
“You seem to know much of the matter. How are you so sure I do not know my Lord Ranulf’s wife? And you seem to harbor much pride, too much pride for a serf.”
Lyonene’s blood seemed to freeze, for she had come close to giving herself away and she could give no answer.
Maude broke the deafening silence. “Come, we take these barrels to the wagons and begin the journey. There will be enough time to learn your reasons, but more important there will be time to teach you to please my Lord Ranulf so that you may learn all you desire of his sweet ways.”
Lyonene bit her tongue to still her retort to the old woman’s jibes. She wanted only to get to Wales to meet the queen. What happened on the journey did not concern her.
Lyonene rode uncomfortably on the little donkey behind the four wagons and the Black Guard and Ranulf. She could not see her husband, and several times she had to look away as she caught Maude studying her.
For some reason known only to her, Maude seemed to help Lyonene remain anonymous and thus several awkward situations were avoided. Lyonene was thankful that the Black Guard were not as her father’s men, from whose advances a serving girl was never safe. She looked now to the ground where the men sat under several trees. They were polite as Maude served them with food. Lyonene stirred the cauldron over the fire with sharp jabs as Ranulf said something to the woman and Maude’s throaty laughter floated across the breeze.
Ranulf had been correct when he had said they would travel fast, and at the end of the day there was little time for anything but a hasty meal. Not accustomed to cooking, Lyonene had trouble helping Maude prepare the meal and was grateful for the woman’s patience. She glanced at Ranulf’s great black serge tent and felt glad that Maude took his food to him, although she found herself holding her breath until the old woman returned. Maude threw her a taunting look and laughed.
She watched Maude go to a wagon and carefully remove a wooden box.
“Come,” she called over her shoulder. Curious, Lyonene followed, although she did not like the way the woman assumed she would go wherever she called.
The cooking fire was hidden from the four tents of the men and Lyonene had wondered why, but she now felt it had been for secrecy’s sake. The box was inlaid with hundreds of tiny pieces of mother of pearl and silver that glowed in the reflected firelight. Almost with reverence, Maude lifted the lid and withdrew what seemed to be a garment of softly transparent silk. It was like a man’s braies, only longer, with jeweled cuffs at a length that must be the ankle. About the wide waist was also a band of gold and sparkling jewels.
Another garment was brought forth, a gathered strip of silk whose function Lyonene could not guess. A jeweled vest came next, delicate, tiny, transparent. Then there were many veils, soft and alluring; Lyonene had never seen such silk. She knelt, tentatively touching the finery.
“It was my mother’s and then mine. Now I have grown too fat to wear it.”